Far From Home
by kalirush
Summary: A ship has crashed outside Cardiff. An alien is at large. Can Jack and his team find him before people start to die? Complete at last.
1. Wakeup Call

Jack stretched, arching his back into the sheets and running his toes along the far edge of the mattress. He could almost hear his stiff muscles creaking, but it felt good. He rolled over onto his side, propping his head up on one hand. He grinned, pondering his sleeping bedmate. She was all pale skin and padded curves and dark, dark hair, and she was the newest professor of history at Cardiff University. It added up to the deadly combination of brains and beauty that Jack was never able to ignore.

He had been to her department looking for information about the area for a project he was working on, and they'd foisted him off on their most junior colleague. Jack figured that was a stroke of luck on his part- not only had she gotten him the information he needed, but she'd consented to let him buy her dinner as thanks. Et cetera, et cetera. He smiled, letting out a very contented sigh, and rolled over onto his back.

Her place was about what he'd've expected from a historian's flat- tasteful, full of books, papers and odd little knicknacks. Wood paneling. Nice, big bed. Nice, big, soft bed, with lots of pillows, and a surprisingly comprehensive selection of toys in a nearby (tasteful, wood-paneled) cupboard. Jack folded his hands under his head, grinning. Just then, his eyes fell on his headset, on a table next to the bed. It was blinking, and vibrating.

Jack sighed, again- not with contentment this time. He stood up, picked up the headset, and padded into the bathroom, closing the door quietly. "What is it?" said Jack, a bit more snappishly than he probably should have.

"Where the hell have you been, Jack?" It was Gwen, with a note of panic in her voice. "This is my third time trying to get you on the headset. We were about to send Owen out after you."

"I'm fine, Gwen," Jack said. "I was just asleep- no need to send in the cavalry. Now, what is it?"

"Tosh tracked something that just crashed outside Cardiff. She says that, given the trajectory, it has to have been artificial, making a crash landing. She says it's 'something with engines, that could queer the descent patterns'."

Jack swore. "Get out there and get it out of the hands of the police, ASAP. Have Tosh uplink the data to me, and I'll meet you there with the SUV."

"Right," Gwen answered, and signed off.

* * *

Gwen, Tosh and Owen were piled into Gwen's car- somehow, despite it being Gwen's actual car, Owen had appropriated the driver's seat. "Where do you think he was?" she asked the assembled crew. "He said he was asleep, but I thought he lived in the Hub."

"The SUV was in a residential area, according to the GPS tracker," Tosh put in, absently.

"Who cares?" said Owen. "Maybe he just went home with some bird he met at the pub. Or some bloke. You never know, with good old Jack."

Gwen bit her lip. "I was just wondering, because... it's not like him not to answer his phone."

"He is allowed to have some life outside of Torchwood," Tosh said, still messing with her laptop.

"Whatever," said Owen, rolling his eyes. "We're here."

* * *

Jack showered quickly. He'd long ago mastered the three-minute shower- it was one of the multitude of reasons he kept his hair so short. When he poked his head out of the bathroom, he saw that Lily (his delectable historian) was still sleeping. He hung his towel carefully on the rack, and walked softly back over to the bed, hunting around for the various bits of clothing that belonged to him.

Finally dressed, he borrowed a pen and some paper. _Sorry I couldn't stay to make you breakfast_, it said. Work calls. _Next time, I promise waffles_. He signed it simply "Jack" and laid it on the pillow next to her. He hoped she wouldn't take offense at him leaving- women could be strange about that sometimes.

Jack was thoroughly enjoying being in a decade where he could (_finally!_) more or less bed who he wanted, without worrying about committing some unforgivable social error in the process. There was no longer a woman's honor to worry about sullying. He got chased by far fewer angry fathers and brothers- and he stood a much better chance of getting the fathers or the brothers in bed with him, instead of having them after his head. He'd always had a soft spot for the forties, but he liked this decade pretty good, too.

Seven and a half minutes after Gwen's call, he was headed out the door, whistling to himself as he checked the coordinates on his wrist computer.

* * *

Jack arrived on the scene, striding through the cordon like he owned the place. He found that acting like you're in charge was the most important part of actually being in charge. The regular police hated his guts, of course. Jack regretted it, but he'd spent too many years establishing Torchwood's authority over local matters to give an inch on it now. Besides- they might hate him, but ultimately he was protecting them. They didn't actually want to face the sort of things Jack had to deal with. Not really.

Like this, for example. Jack ducked as he walked into the large tent that'd been erected over the crash site. The ship was small, for a spaceship- a bit longer than an RV, but taller. Jack didn't recognize the make. He circled around it, noting the obvious damage from the crash. If there was any damage before the crash, it wasn't obvious. No burn marks, or laser scars. The passenger compartment was tiny, compared to the rest of the ship. _Inefficient engines_, Jack thought. "What do you have for me, Tosh?" Jack said aloud.

"Not much," she answered. She was standing off to the side, sweeping various devices over the ship, and making notes on her laptop. Gwen and Owen were standing to the side. "No response from inside. It looks like the interior's been breached, but we were waiting for you before opening it. The atmosphere inside seems to be basically compatible, so there might be survivors."

"And you did take your sweet time," Owen put in, snarkily. "So, where was our fearless leader? Off having a bit of a bang, were we?"

Jack shot Owen a look, and Owen subsided. "Gwen, you're with me," Jack said. "We're going to get the ship open. Owen, be prepared to treat any passengers inside. And try to keep the remarks to a minimum, please? Whoever's inside is lost, and probably hurt and scared. Let's not make it worse."

Owen muttered under his breath, but set to preparing his medical equipment.

It took Jack and Gwen a few minutes to get the door of the ship open. The mechanism was clearly damaged, and Jack'd had to fiddle with it to get it to respond. The air inside smelled strange. There was ozone, and burnt metal, and a heavy, organic scent that Jack did not find promising.

"Hello?" he called out, in a clear, even voice. "This is Captain Jack Harkness, representing the Torchwood Institute. We're here to help you." He moved cautiously into the cabin, Gwen at his back.

The space inside was as small as he'd thought it would be. He had to duck going in. There were spaces for four passengers, and precious little else. Two of the spaces were filled. The passengers were curiously insectiform. Six limbs, bodies slim to the point of ridiculousness. Their faces were reminiscent of nothing on Earth, though, and their small, clawed hands looked nothing like a bug's.

"Owen!" Jack called. "We've got patients for you!" Jack didn't hold out much hope for them, though. They looked to have been hurt pretty badly in the crash, and neither of them were responsive. Dead, Jack guessed, but you never knew.

"What, ah- what are they?" Gwen asked, unnerved.

"They're people, Gwen." Jack said, shortly. He tapped a few keys on his wrist computer. "Or were."

"I mean, what- ah- species?" she continued.

Jack looked up at her. "Don't know," he said. "I'll have Tosh match them against our databases, but I don't recognize them.

He frowned suddenly, and shook his head. "What is it?" Gwen asked, concerned.

"I thought I saw something move, but- never mind. It was probably nothing."


	2. Aliens

Karish lifted the hatch, and pulled himself cautiously out of it into the space beyond. The ship'd been used by smugglers before his family had bought it, and it was riddled with secret compartments and weird little crawlspaces. The one he'd been using was the only one big enough to fit a person, though. He shook out his arms, gingerly, wondering just how long he'd been cramped in there. It was darker than before, so the planetary cycle was probably drawing to a close. If he had any idea what the duration of the cycle was, and what point in the cycle they'd landed during, he might be able to guess how long it'd been. Not that the knowledge would actually help him any.

He tiptoed nervously back to the passenger area, tapping idly on the roof with the claws on his topleft hand. He'd gained consciousness after the crash only to find himself on this strange planet, with its yellow-colored sun. The first thing he'd seen when he'd woken up was Parf and Telra, slumped over in the front. He'd unbuckled and run to them, but they hadn't answered. The nose of the ship had crumpled, and they'd taken the brunt of it.

That's when he'd seen the aliens through the view ports- bloated and stunty and disgusting. He'd run and hid, in terror. He hadn't even tried to stop them as he'd watched them take Parf and Telra away from him, peeking through a tiny hole in the paneling.

He chittered quietly in grief as he ran his lowhands over seats they'd sat in- now ripped apart by the aliens, and splattered with his mates' blood. He pressed his tophands against the cold, smooth surface of the front viewport, choking back emotion. He brought his bloodied lowhands up to his face, smelling the scent of them on his hands, one last time.

Pulling himself away from the glass, he began ransacking the ship for supplies. Even if it could fly again- and he doubted it could, damaged as it was- he lacked the skill to fly it. Brave, handsome Parf had been the pilot, of the three of them. He'd have to try to find berth on another ship. Surely, he would be able to find another ship that could take him. Somehow.

At least he knew he could walk around unprotected on the surface of this world. The last act of the ship's computer, screaming as they'd lost control of the ship, was to throw them towards a planet with a basically compatible atmosphere. The nitrogen content was a bit high- he'd be a bit light-headed, but at least he could breathe.

Having gathered what little he could take with him, Karish jiggered the trash hatch. He didn't want to do something so obvious as leaving by the front door- not if those ugly aliens were still watching. He slipped out of the ship, and into the night.

* * *

It had been a long day. Just getting the bodies (certified dead by Owen) away from the crash had taken hours. The two aliens had been crushed into their seats, and they'd had to bring equipment in to cut them free. It was a big job, to be done by two people. Between examining the ship, retrieving the bodies, and making sure that no one was going to walk in on the ship overnight, it was dark before the team dragged back into the Hub. Gwen was on the phone making excuses to Rhys, as usual. Ianto was waiting for them with hot coffee and little pastries. Jack had never wanted to kiss the Welshman more.

"Thanks, Ianto," he said, around a danish. "We never got lunch. Speaking of which, someone order food! We've got a lot more work to do tonight."

"Is Chinese alright?" Ianto asked.

"Sure, whatever." Jack shrugged. "Tosh, make sure you've got the camera feed set up right. If anything moves around that crash site, I want there to be alarms and whistles."

"Done," Tosh said, a little shortly. "Done before we left, actually. I've been monitoring from my laptop. I just finished putting up the program that will monitor without me while we eat Chinese."

"Great. So, Chinese- and then you get to do some autopsies, Dr. Harper.

"Goody," said Owen.

* * *

Karish ducked into the alleyway, pulling his clothes tighter around him. This world was insane. He'd seen no signs for a spaceport at all, or for any standard ground transport leading to the spaceport. Everything was in some bizarre language he'd never heard of, and there was nothing but those fat, ugly aliens everywhere. To make matters worse, they were _hostile_ fat, ugly aliens. He'd twice tried to ask for help from the locals. Both times, they'd screamed at him, and waved their two pudgy little arms. One of them had thrown a rock.

He had to face it: he had no idea where he was. This was certainly none of the 15 inhabitable worlds of the Caleron system, and he couldn't imagine how they could have gotten knocked so far off course as to have accidently travelled into another solar system.

The ship hadn't even been kitted out for interstellar, anyhow. It'd just been a cheap old boat that would get them to their new jobs on Tellursilus Minor, and maybe hop them around the system a bit first. Telra had decided it could be their honeymoon trip- extremely belated, to be fair, but they'd not had a chance to travel when they'd first been married. Too young, too poor.

He leaned his forehead against the wall, feeling the rough texture of the brick against his skin. He wrapped his lowhands around his body, brushing his tophands over his head in a gesture of comfort.

He felt so very alone. He'd never been alone. Growing up, there had been his two triple-sisters to live with and play with and argue with. They'd even lived together at Academy, until Prala had married off, and brilliant Tashi had graduated and moved away. He'd only been on his own a month when he'd met Telra, all those years ago. Telra and then Parf, whose beautiful bodies had been crushed by their own ship and stolen away by aliens. He clenched his tophands uselessly, wishing he knew what to do.

Behind him, he heard footsteps, and the sound of trash being kicked aside.

* * *

Jack rubbed his temples, and set aside the artifact he'd been examining. Without looking, he catalogued his team. Tosh, at her station, trying to decrypt the aliens' flight recorder. Ianto, in his office out front. Gwen, flipping through the police reports of the incident, looking for witnesses and possible fallout. Owen, working on his autopsies downstairs.

Owen snickered. Jack sighed. He pulled himself up from his desk, and walked over to the medical bay. "Something funny, Dr. Harper?" Jack asked, peering down.

The alien body was still half in the body bag that they'd sealed it into at the crash site. The lower part was crushed, and Owen'd decided to only autopsy the top half. He looked up at Jack, scalpel in hand, and giggled. "It's just that-" he said, his eyes smirking over the top of his mask, "-you see..." Owen broke off, looking at Jack's expression. He turned back to the body, schooling his features back into mock seriousness. "Right. Back to work. Never mind- nothing amusing here."

Jack stayed to watch. Owen's deft hands opened the dead alien's chest. Flaps of skin lay peeled open like the petals of an enormous and gory flower. Owen began examining and removing various organs. "I may be rubbish with sick people," he remarked, cheerily, "but I know autopsies like the back of my manly and attractive hand." He raised his left hand towards Jack, waggling the fingers. He giggled again.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked, with a note of concern in his voice. Owen might be a textbook insensitive ass, but he didn't typically giggle over corpses.

"Just fine, Boss," Owen said, saluting with one gore-covered gloved hand. "Never better." As if he'd just told some sort of joke, Owen started to laugh. Uproariously. Suddenly, he turned back to Jack. Hand raised, still giggling, he took one step forward. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he crumpled to the ground.


	3. Tokens of Affection

Karish turned around to face whatever was coming up behind him.

It was a dirty, wrinkled alien, shorter than most. Dressed in rags. Just like the rest, it started making terrible noises and waving its stumpy little arms. [[I just want to get home, he told it. [[Look, just show me where the spaceport is, and I'll get off your crazy planet. He held his lowhands out to it in the traditional gesture of pleading.

Apparently, that was the wrong move. It made even louder noises. He turned to go, and it started to throw things at him. He raised his arms to deflect the objects, but he was too slow. Something hit him in the head, hard, and he found himself spinning down towards the ground. In the background, he could hear someone screaming-

_-she was squealing with joy. "My god, Karish! I can't believe it. We really got the jobs! We're moving to Minor!"_

"_Yeah," he told her, smiling shyly. "We really are."_

"_Unlike some people, I've never been off Major before. It's so exciting! And you know what this means, don't you?" She pulled his chair around, sitting herself in his lap. Her voice softened. "It means that we'd have enough money to have our own triple. Two little triple-sons to look like you and Parf." She brushed her lowhands against his chest._

"_I'd always thought that we could have two daughters," he told her. "They could both look like you, and the son could look like Parf, and none of them would have to be stuck looking like me."_

"_Silly," she told him, nuzzling his face. "I don't know. Girls are scarier." He laughed, and she smiled at him. "Well, I had two triple-brothers myself, you know," she added. "It's not like I have lots of experience with little girls. Parf, what do you think? Sons or daughters?"_

_Parf entered the room, shaking the dust from the cleanser off of his body. "Sons all the way!" he said, smiling. "I loved having a triple brother. You don't know what you were missing, Karish." He came up behind Karish, and stroked his eye ridges affectionately. "But I can see the allure of having two daughters, if they could both look like Telra."_

_They all laughed. Karish leaned into Parf's touch, holding Telra close to him. And then, something was wrong. Parf dug his claws into Karish's head, and as he screamed, Parf started laughing-_

-it was laughing. Karish came awake on the sour, stinking pavement of another world, and he could hear the sound of the alien laughing. His head hurt, and as he blinked, he could see his own blood pooling on the ground. He pulled himself up and staggered away, holding his tophands over the wound, bracing himself against the wall of the alley with his lowhands.

Behind him, the laughing subsided.

* * *

Jack vaulted over the railing. Owen was on the ground, not moving. Not breathing, either, and his pulse was faint. Jack shouted, "Tosh! Gwen!" and started checking Owen's airway. He tilted Owen's head back and breathed gently into his mouth, watching his chest rise.

"Oh, my god!" That was Gwen. "Owen!" She ran down the stairs. Tosh appeared at the top of the room, gripping the railing with white-knuckled hands.

Jack breathed deeply, and breathed again into Owen's mouth. Then, without meaning to, he giggled.

Gwen looked at him, strangely. "Jack?" she said.

Jack looked at her, and he couldn't help himself. He laughed, his sides heaving with the effort of it. With an expression of dawning horror, he looked at Owen, and at the alien body on the table. "Out!" he shouted. "Everyone out, and get this room sealed off!"

He scooped Owen up, and bolted for the door. Tosh and Gwen were behind him, doing what he'd ordered. He didn't stop until he had Owen out of the Hub altogether and laid down in Ianto's office. Ianto stood to the side, looking uncertain.

"Come on," Jack said, as he breathed fresh air into Owen's lungs. The sick man's pulse had weakened since Jack had last checked. "Come on."

Gwen and Tosh appeared, finally. "Should I call an ambulance?" Ianto asked, quietly.

"Come on!" Jack shouted. Owen wasn't listening. His pulse faded, and then stopped. Jack began doing chest compressions, and pulled Gwen down to do the rescue breathing.

"Jack," said Tosh quietly. "He's not responding."

Gwen gasped, and sobbed, reaching for Owen. "No..." she breathed, her voice heavy.

Jack straightened. He looked at her, looked at Owen, and pushed Gwen out of the way. "Jack?" she said, confused.

Jack leaned down and took Owen's head into his arms, cradling it gently. He hesitated a moment, checking the unconscious man's pulse. Then he kissed him.

It only lasted a moment, but at the end of it, Owen shook, and gasped, and came awake. "Oh, my god," he said. "Were you really just kissing me? And was that tongue?" He wiped his face. "This may come as a surprise, Jack, but I don't actually fancy you."

* * *

"It was the blood," Tosh said. She and Jack were sitting in an empty room in the infirmary section of the Hub. Owen was next door, sleeping.

"We checked for communicable diseases, and even for harmful emissions," she continued, shaking her head, "but we didn't catch this. Their blood has a chemical reaction to our atmosphere. We didn't catch it before because it took so long to extract the bodies from the ship. The reaction happened and finished, and the gasses had time to dissipate before anyone was exposed." She bit her lip. "But when the body was opened- well-"

Jack nodded to her, indicating for her to continue. She shuffled her papers, her body tense. "They have high concentrations of nitrogen in their blood," she said. "and other things we haven't been able to analyze. The long and the short of it, is that the blood mixing with our air creates a gas. It's close to nitrous oxide- which is why you saw him laughing. Unfortunately, it causes paralysis and heart failure in high enough doses. Nasty stuff, but the chemical composition is fascinating."

Jack nodded. "But you can treat him? If we have to take him to a hospital, we should. But I'd rather not explain."

Tosh nodded back, shortly. "Now that I know what it is we're dealing with, I can treat him. Really, it'll just be an issue of letting his body process the poison naturally. But now that he's managed to shake off the paralysis, he should eventually be fine." She tilted her head to one side, considering. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "There is also a chance there's been some lasting damage to his heart. But it shouldn't affect his day-to-day life."

"Jack?" It was Gwen's voice, coming from his headset. "Jack, I've got something I think you need to see."

* * *

Karish pulled himself into the nearest empty, sheltered space he could find. He had stopped bleeding, at least. He felt dizzy, though, and sick. This world, these people didn't agree with him. He curled up in a corner of the empty building he found himself in. His toes and fingers were cold, and he tucked himself into a ball for warmth. In relative safety, curled into a comfortable position, he found himself feeling sleepy for the first time since the crash.

"_You're not real," he told Parf. "You're dead. I'm just dreaming you."_

"_Yeah, love. I'm sorry. I'm not really here." Parf stroked his head comfortingly "How are you doing, Karish?"_

"_Not- not great, Parf. You and Telra-" For a moment, he couldn't continue. Parf said nothing, but just held Karish close, wrapping his lowarms around his husband's body. Finally, Karish took a deep breath._

"_And I'm lost. And that alien hurt me. I don't know how to get away from this planet. I think I'm going to die here..." He trailed off. He was looking at his hands. In his dream, they were covered with his own bluish-green blood. "There was so much blood," he said, dazed. "All mine. I thought I was going to die, and I thought, well, at least I'll be with Parf and Telra. They'll know what to do."_

"_You're not going to die, heart of my heart." Parf nuzzled his cheeks. "Telra wanted me to make sure you knew that."_

"_Knew what?" Karish was confused, but he desperately didn't want Parf to stop touching him, talking to him- _being_ with him._

"_You live, Karish. You have to go on living." Parf reached up and cupped Karish's face in his lowhands, wrapping his tophands around the back of his head. "If nothing else, you're the only one who remembers us. You have to see that our bodies are laid to rest properly, so we can move on."_

_Karish nodded, slowly. He could cope with that goal. "I miss you," he said, plaintively.  
_

"_I know you do, Karish. Telra and I love you. Remember that, okay? We'll always love you." Parf leaned his forehead against Karish's holding him close. "And one other thing, dearheart."_

_Karish clutched Parf with all four hands, his body suddenly shaking with- fear, maybe. "What?" he asked. "What?"_

_"Hope, Karish. Have hope. Please."_

He moaned and shifted in his sleep.


	4. Physiognomy

"We've got a rash of sightings over the police radio," Gwen told him, when he'd returned to the main portion of the Hub. "Some people say it's a man in a costume. Some say a wild animal. One or two of them actually say it's alien. Most of them mention that he was very tall, and had extra arms."

"Sounds like the same aliens we have in the morgue," Jack said, sighing. "Which means either we've got another ship, or we missed some."

"There was no other vehicle," Tosh said, with a ring of certainty in her voice. "With our instruments, we'd have known. That ship was the only thing larger than a basketball to crash down in our area in the last few days."

Jack crossed his arms, thinking for a moment. "If their blood reacts to our air, what does that mean for a living alien running around in our atmosphere?"

Tosh flipped through some files on her computer screen before shrugging helplessly. "It's impossible to tell," she said. "Their bodies might be able to filter out the reactive elements in our air before it combines with their blood. Without knowing more about their physiology, though-"

Jack nodded. "So, maybe he's sick. Maybe he's not. Either way, he's our problem." He reached for his coat. "Let's go find our little lost alien. Gwen, you're with me. Tosh, stay and keep an eye on Owen. If you find out anything more, let us know."

"Jack!" Gwen gasped. She put a hand to her headset. "The police have just found a body."

"The alien?" Jack was running now, Gwen following behind.

"No- a human. But she was found in the same area of the sightings. And Jack-"

"Yeah?" Jack jumped into the SUV.

"They found her in a puddle of an unknown green liquid."

Jack groaned. "The blood."

"The blood," Gwen agreed.

* * *

Karish woke up. His head ached and he felt sick. He was feeling his injuries. To add to everything else, gravity of this planet was just a little greater than he was used to. It was starting to wear on him. He pulled himself upright, breathing slowly against the sudden dizziness. He blinked as the room slowly stopped spinning.

So. He had to find Parf and Telra's bodies, somehow. He had to find a way off this planet, somehow. He clenched his tophands, thinking.

He had no idea where he was, but wherever it was, they were clearly xenophobes. Karish shuddered. He'd only heard stories about planets like that: so backward that they refused star travel or interstellar trade. There were none like that in the Caleron system, so he could be anywhere. It was possible that he was on a moon or asteroid, something kept off the charts by religious zealots. The gravity told him that it had to be a large world, though- larger even than Tellursilus Major, the largest world in his system.

He'd worry about where exactly he was later, though. His first problem was figuring out a way to pass among the aliens without them noticing him. He was taller than most of them, and had more arms, which was going to be difficult to disguise. If he could cover his face, maybe he could wrap his lowarms under his clothes, and no one would notice.

His second problem was going to be finding the particular aliens, out of all these thousands or millions, who had Parf and Telra.

* * *

Jack stood in the alleyway, scanning the area with his wrist computer. Gwen knelt on the ground, looking at the puddle of half-congealed blood. The blood had darkened to a green color as it dried. "Are you certain this is safe now?" she asked, dubiously.

"That's what Tosh says," Jack answered, as he looked around. He frowned, and knelt down. He picked something up, examining it.

"What is it, Jack?" Gwen stood, dusting off her knees, and walked around to Jack's side.

"This is what cut our alien, I think," Jack said. He was holding a glass beer bottle, the end a mass of jagged glass. It was spattered with green blood. "Look, smears where someone held it. And some bits," he held it up, examining it closer. "of flesh caught in the edges of the glass. Bet it was a nasty wound." He whistled. "Let's get this bagged up, so Tosh can have a look at it."

"So, was the alien holding the weapon, or was the victim?" Gwen said, looking a bit sick.

"The human," Jack said. He laid his fingers over the marks on the neck of the bottle, showing her. "You saw the aliens' hands. It'd be a different grip pattern on the bottle if it was one of them. Besides, why would he cut himself open?"

"If he knew the effect his blood has on us, he could have done it in defense." Gwen bit her lip, looking around.

"Hmm." Jack said. "Still, he didn't. Not in this case. I wonder if he even realized what his blood did to that woman?" He handed the bottle to Gwen, and began looking around the alley again. "Here," he said.

"What?"

"Here." He pointed. "A trail of blood spatters. He gets wounded, and what does he do?" Jack put his right hand on his left shoulder and gestured. "He holds it closed with one of his hands, and the blood drips down his arm and off his elbow, leaving a trail for us to follow."

* * *

Karish crouched next to the wall, trying to avoid being seen. He'd been creeping down back alleys for what felt like forever, looking for a chance to steal some native clothes. His back and head and feet all hurt, and he silently cursed this planet yet again for its too-strong gravitational field.

Finally. When he looked in _this_ window, he saw a bunch of clothes strewn around. He knocked on the window and ducked away, waiting to see if anyone was going to respond to the sound. After a few minutes, he transferred the rock he'd been carrying into his right tophand and smashed it into the window with all his strength.

It took several tries, but Karish was finally able to get the window open enough to crawl through. He was certain that someone would hear the noise and come running, but no one appeared. He pulled himself through the window, scraping himself painfully on the broken glass as he went. He gritted his teeth, hissing at the pain.

It took him a while, but he was eventually able to find clothes that basically covered his non-local physique. He was wearing a jacket with a hood, and he'd wrapped a length of fabric around the lower part of his face. The alien fabric felt strangely thick and rough on his skin, and he was over-warm. He could tell that his lowarms (wrapped around his torso underneath the jacket) were going to ache before long. Still, he felt better than he had since the crash. He had a plan now, and a direction.


	5. Interstices

Jack and Gwen followed the blood trail into an abandoned building. Gwen pulled her jacket tight around her, looking up at the broken windows and grime. Jack signaled to her, and they checked the building together. No sign of an alien. Jack sighed.

"He probably spent the night here," he said, looking around the area again. "Moved on now. And there's not much blood; we won't be able to keep tracking him that way."

"Why do you say 'he', Jack?" Gwen said, with a small smile. "Do you know something we don't?"

Jack waved dismissively. "Since we're talking about another species, your pronouns don't really apply anyhow, do they? I might as well pick one or the other. And it's not me that decided that the masculine pronoun is the default, is it?"

"My pronouns?" Gwen protested. "Since when did they become my pronouns?"

Jack walked around the room, peering carefully at the walls and floors. "Look at this," he said, beckoning her over. "There's a little smear of green blood here. I think he must have rested here." He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "Poor guy," he said, sympathy clear on his face.

Gwen exploded. "How can you say that?" she asked. "How can you go around, pitying him? These aliens, they almost killed Owen. And one of them did kill that poor woman, back in that alley."

Jack stared her down calmly. "Owen almost killed Owen, Gwen. It's standard protocol to wear a mask during autopsies. Owen didn't do it, and he paid for that mistake. And, in case you didn't notice, those particular aliens were dead before he got to them. You're going to have a hard time assigning them some an ulterior motive."

He turned, and looked around at the empty building again. "And as for our lost lamb, here... It's not like the human race is very accepting of bug-eyed aliens running around; not at this point. The woman in the alleyway attacked _him_, don't forget." Jack half-smiled at her, but there was no humor in it. "It's hard, to be an outsider on this planet. To get stuck here accidentally, with no feeling for the local culture, or language, or customs. He must be terrified."

"And you'd know, would you?" Gwen snapped. "Why do you talk like that? You're human."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Am I? Do you know that for certain?"

Gwen closed her mouth, and then opened it again. When she spoke again, she looked less sure of herself. "Well," she said, slowly. "You look human..." she trailed off.

"And everything that looks human, is, is it?" he asked, exasperated. He was silent for a moment, and then turned to her. "Yes, I'm human, more or less," he said, rolling his eyes. "There's not an alien in your midst at Torchwood. Or, at least, if there is, it's not me." Jack grinned down at her. "I'm just saying that this guy is lost, his friends are dead. With the rift, there's a good chance he's not anywhere near his right time or place. So, try to have a little empathy, okay?"

* * *

The first step was to retrace his steps to the crash. It wasn't easy. When he'd left the crash site looking for a spaceport the night before, he'd been fuzzy with shock and grief. Between that and his strange surroundings, he could be anywhere. He did remember that he'd been outside the town, though. If worse came to worse, he could skirt the outside of the town, looking for the crash.

Depending on how big this city was, though, that could take an extremely long time. Time was not on his side. He had very little food, and no knowledge of what local foodstuffs might be edible for him. Plus, the longer he was around the ugly pig-aliens, the more likely one of them would be to notice that he wasn't one of them. Maybe they'd attack him again, he thought, glumly. Then again, maybe they'd sacrifice him to their crazy gods, or spit-roast him for a feast, or something. The more he saw of their technology, the more he was convinced he was on some godforsaken backwater of a world that time forgot. Primitives like this might be capable of anything.

He_had_ taken notice of the sky, when he'd left the ship before. There was a chance he might be able to navigate based on that. He hoped so. He wasn't much of a pilot, but he'd always been a decent navigator, for domestic flying, anyway. He certainly wasn't going to be applying for a shipboard job anytime soon. He wasn't good enough at multi-dimensional math for astronavigation. Nevertheless, he'd always liked that thrill of solving the puzzle: how do I get to here from there? He loved maps, and delighted in finding the most efficient paths based on the least quantity of data.

Well, he was certainly deficient in the data area at the moment.

Pondering his next move, he ducked around a corner. Suddenly, he was face to face with what seemed like hundreds of the pig-aliens. They were walking, and talking to each other in their primitive jabber, and doing mysterious things with little machines.

Frightened, he jerked back out of view behind a building. There was simply no way that he was going to walk into the middle of that crowd of aliens right now. What might happen if one of them unmasked him, in front of all those others? He shuddered, thinking about it. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that he'd be better off finding someplace to hide, and trying again once the planet had turned away from the sun again. It'd be harder for the aliens to see through his disguise, and there seemed to be fewer of them on the streets in the dark, anyhow.

It sounded like a good plan to him, in his head. He hoped it would be a good plan in the real world, too.

* * *

"No readings on alien power signatures, anything like that, Tosh?" Jack asked, hopefully.

"Whoever he is, he's not using any technology worth speaking of," Tosh answered, her voice small in his ear. Jack imagined that he could see her face, shaking her head apologetically. "At least not anything we can trace. Then again, there wasn't a lot left on board that ship to begin wtih. Drives were beyond anything we've got, of course, but it was all a bit... cobbled together, wasn't it? He may not have any alien tech with him at all."

"You see that, sometimes," he said. "People buy whatever kind of ship they can pull together, and strike off, looking for something better. They could have been pioneers. Or interstellar hobos, maybe. I wonder if they were friends, or lovers, or business partners, or what? Three people in a clapped-out spaceship, wandering around the universe." Jack found himself getting almost wistful. "Could be anything," he finished, lamely.

"Well, our translator programs have just about finished running," she said brusquely, seeming not to hear the melancholy note in her boss's voice. "We'll probably be able to find out then."

"Call me when that happens," he said, flipping open his wrist strap. "Gwen and I are going to search the area around the building he stayed in last night, see if we can't pick up his tracks."

"Alright," she said, and paused. "Owen's doing well," she added. "He's already starting to drive Ianto crazy."

Jack smiled. "Tell Ianto for me that he's got permission to drug him, if he gets too obnoxious. And that he's got permission to threaten Owen with it, too, before it comes to that."

"Very well," Tosh sad, and Jack could hear the smile in her voice. "Good luck, in any case."


	6. Communication

**A/N: I gave up on this story several years ago, but a recent comment by mericat inspired me to finish it at last. I'll post the final chapter tomorrow.**

Karish was losing track of time. He wondered how long the day and night of this planet were. It had been day when he'd woken up after the crash. He'd slept through most of the night after the alien had attacked him, and now it was sometime in the day again. He curled himself up against the wall of a building, trying to be invisible. It seemed to be working- the aliens just walked on past him and never looked in the direction of his dirty little alleyway. He hoped it would be dark again soon. He was hungry, and his head hurt, and his lowarms already ached from being held in one place for too long. He closed his eyes.

_"What's your name?" she said. Her skin was ruddy in the orange sunlight, her eye ridges gracefully curved. This was a memory, he realized. He'd been here before._

_"Karesh," he told her, stumbling over his own tongue, just as he had so many years before. "I mean- I mean- Karish."_

_She laughed. "I'm Telra," she said. "That was a brilliant insight just there. What are you doing after this?" She waved an arm, indicating the teaching amphitheatre, the instructor, the other students._

_"Er- nothing. Thank you?" he paused, re-running the sentence in his head. "Not in that order, sorry."_

_She smiled at him again. "I have got to introduce you to Parf," she said._

Someone was shaking him. He glanced over, trying to hide his face and hands. It was one of the pig-aliens. He was saying something in that choppy language of theirs, the music of his voice rising at the ends of his phrases. Karish curled up, turning his face inward. _Don't pay attention to me, he thought._ _Go away and leave me alone._It worked. Eventually, the alien left. Karish shivered, though it wasn't that cold.

* * *

Tosh hit the enter key, and sighed. There was nothing to do now except wait for the computer to run. She reached out without thinking, and was surprised to find a warm cup of coffee right where she usually kept it. She hadn't remembered getting herself any coffee, but Ianto must have brought her some when she wasn't paying attention. She sipped slowly, blessing his name.

The distant sound of raised voices interrupted her reverie. Reluctantly, she set down her cup and headed toward the room where Ianto was playing babysitter to Owen. She cautiously nudged the door open.

"I don't bloody need another bloody cup of warm milk!" Owen was shouting. "I need my bloody pants, teaboy!" He took note of Tosh's presence. "You'll get me pants, won't you, Tosh?" he said, sweetly.

"Medical indications are that you should rest," she managed, feeling like a deer staring at a pair of headlights.

"I'm the doctor around here," Owen said, sourly. "I think I'm best qualified to make that decision," he said, glaring at Tosh.

"Absolutely, sir," Ianto said, and jammed a needle in Owen's neck.

"You... you... Welsh wanker..." he said, and collapsed.

"Thank you for the distraction," Ianto said, looking over at Tosh.

"Jack said to tell you that you're free to drug Owen," Tosh said, with a small smile.

Ianto looked down at the unconscious man in his arms. "We do pride ourselves on our efficiency," he said, drily. "Would you mind giving me a hand?" he asked. "He's heavier than he looks."

Tosh came around. "Shall I take his legs?" she offered.

"If you please," Ianto answered. They maneuvered Owen back onto the bed. Ianto tucked him in, smoothing the covers neatly around him.

"He should be well enough to be up when the sedative wears off," Tosh offered. "But he'll need to get checked out. He might want to do that himself, of course-" she was interrupted by a discreet bleep from the computer at her belt. "Oh!" she said. "The translation program's done running-"

"Best be off then," Ianto said. "I can handle Owen."

Tosh nodded. "Thank you for the coffee," she added, on her way out the door.

* * *

"Bleeding warehouses," Gwen said. "They always make me feel as though I'm on the X-Files, but it's never as cool as that in real life."

"We're as cool as the X-Files," Jack disagreed, grinning. "But I get to be Scully. I look fabulous as a redhead." He frowned. "I think he left this way."

"Yeah?" Gwen said, coming over.

"Smudge of green on the door frame," Jack said, scanning it with his wrist computer. "Yeah- alien blood. Of course, knowing that doesn't tell us all that much. He could have headed any direction from here."

They searched the alley outside the door, but came up empty. "Where is he going?" Gwen asked, frowning.

"That's the million dollar question," Jack said, looking over his wrist computer.

"No," Gwen said, "I mean, what's he doing? What does the alien want? That might tell us where he is."

"Without knowing anything about his species, there's no way to tell," Jack said, scanning again for traces of the alien's passing. "Most aliens aren't that different from humans, you know. They worry about their kids, and the bills, and that local sports team- but those aren't usually the kind we get through the rift."

"We mostly seem to get monsters," Gwen said, making a face.

"Predators," Jack corrected. "Or just people, but outside their proper context. This alien hasn't done anything hostile yet, but without the translation, there's no way to guess what he might be after." He put a hand to his ear. "Tosh? We've hit a dead end. Please tell me you've managed to crack the black box."

_Just finished,_ Tosh's voice echoed in his ear. _I was checking the analysis._

"How's Owen?" Jack asked.

_Ianto just put him down for a nap,_ Tosh said, primly. _He's much the same, otherwise. Recovering. He should be okay when he wakes up, at least in the short term._

Jack smiled. "What can you tell me about our wayward traveler?"

_The ship manifest lists three passengers, so we do only have the one alien to account for,_ she said. _I think that this part means that the three of them were married- sorry, the translation program has difficulty with certain concepts._ She paused, and he imagined her scanning the computer screen, her face intent. _Apparently, they were relocating to another planet for work, and were going on a vacation trip first? It all looks-_ she paused. Her voice grew a little sad. _Mundane. I'm going to send you the details._

"Did you get that?" Jack asked Gwen.

"So, not one of our predators, then," she said, nodding.

"Thanks, Tosh," Jack said, touching his ear, "Let us know if you get any more alien sightings."

Gwen looked thoughtful. "He'll be going back to the ship," she said. "He doesn't have anywhere else to go."

Jack nodded. "Let's go," he said.

* * *

As the sky finally grew dark, Karish pulled himself up. He had been right- there were fewer people out now. Timidly, he walked along the street, looking to the sky for clues about which direction to go. Soon enough, he found himself back at the alley where he'd been attacked. It was festooned with yellow ribbon now. He walked past it, trying to look casual, trying to remember how he'd gotten to this spot in the first place. His head ached, and he was already tired, despite having slept much of the day. His body wasn't designed for this kind of gravity.

It was black out by the time he was outside of the city. He was more confident now that he could remember his way back to the ship. There were fewer buildings out here, fewer people, fewer wrong turns. Soon, he crested the hill next to the crash. Cautiously, he crawled down the incline, hoping that the aliens hadn't left anyone watching the ship, or that they wouldn't notice him if they had.

He reached the hatch of the ship, and stretched out his tophands to work the release.

/Hello/, a voice said from behind him. It was speaking the trade language, the common tongue that everyone in the system learned.

Karish froze, not certain what to expect. he answered, turning slowly around. It was all he could do not to bolt away, or collapse into a ball and hide.

The speaker was one of the pig aliens, his body held stiffly, his teeth bared. /Good,/ he said, and bared his teeth more. /Right time, right place. My name Jek,/ he said.

/Jek,/ Karish repeated, racking his brains for the language lessons he'd had in school. /My name is Karish,/ he said, trying not to betray his fear. /You know the trade language?/

/Learned long time ago,/ the alien- Jek- said.

* * *

At first, Jack thought it was a sightseer from Cardiff. It was only when he went straight for the ship's hatch that he realized that the alien had tried to disguise himself. He called out, making a guess at a language that might work given the coordinates Tosh had sent him. /Hello,/ he said, preparing to run or fight if the alien bugged out.

/Hello,/ the alien answered in the same language, turning slowly around. It was difficult to read alien body language, but Jack thought he saw fear there.

/Good!/ Jack said, smiling. /I was right about the time and place! My name is Jack, by the way./

/Jek,/ the alien repeated, slowly. /My name Karish. You know trade language?/

Jack smiled, moving a little closer. /I learned it a long time ago,/ he said. He turned to Gwen. "Come out now," he said. "Slowly- don't spook him. He says his name is Karish." He turned to the alien. /This is my friend, Gwen,/ he said.

"Hello, Karish," Gwen said, moving cautiously into view.

Karish's torso jerked, and Jack realized that he must have tried to reach out with his lower arms, but they were trapped by the hoody. /Do you want to take that off? It can't be comfortable,/ he said.

/Not important,/ Karish said, his face twisting. He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was small. /You take them,/ he said. /Where?/

* * *

Jek turned away, and started speaking the local gibberish to someone out of view. /This is friend, Genn,/ he said.

Another alien suddenly stepped out of the shadows. Karish was startled. He tried to grab onto the side of the ship with his lowhands to steady himself, and got stuck in the fabric of his stolen clothes. He colored with embarrassment.

/You want take off?/ the alien asked, incomprehensibly. He stopped grimacing at Karish, at least. /Not comfortable,/ he added, and Karish finally realized he meant the clothes.

/It's not important,/ Karish said impatiently. He braced himself against the onslaught of his own grief. /You took them,/ he said, unable to say his mates' names. /Where?/

/Your mates,/ Jek said, nodding his head. His facial expression changed to something that Karish couldn't read at all. /Come,/ he said. /Come with us./


	7. Resolution

They ushered Karish into a large black ground vehicle. He sunk into the softness of the seat, appreciating even a small respite from this world's gravity. He was more comfortable now that he'd taken off his disguise. He closed his eyes, listening to the aliens jabber between themselves. Karish didn't bother paying attention. They would either take him to Parf and Telra, or they wouldn't. He was tired, and he was hungry, and he was done. He'd done the best he could, and he would just have to wait to see if it was good enough.

* * *

"Is Owen up yet?" Jack said, touching his ear.

_Fifteen minutes ago_, Tosh confirmed. _He's with Ianto right now._

"Tell him to stop swearing at my teaboy and get back on the job," Jack said. "If he can stand, I need him to sew up those bodies. We're on the way back to the hub with our lost alien. I'd rather he not have to see his mates- well, you know what I mean."

_You found him?_ Tosh said, surprise and excitement registering in her voice. _Were there any problems?_

"We chatted," Jack said. "Dig up a translator button for me while Owen's working, okay?"

_Right_, Tosh said. _I can do that._

"Oh, and remind Owen to use a mask this time?" Jack added.

"He's just sitting back there," Gwen said, glancing back at Karish. "Do you think he's okay?"

"Probably not," Jack said. "Would you be?"

Gwen looked worried. "What are we going to do with him, Jack? I've seen the files. I know what Torchwood does with alien visitors, even the benign ones."

"Not here they don't," Jack said, fiercely. "Not since I've been in charge."

* * *

_The other man smiled and flipped the ball up into the air, handling it with a deftness and athleticism that Karish had never possessed. "Telra's told me a lot about you," he said._

_"Er," Karish answered, brilliantly. _

_"Yeah," Parf said, his eyes sparkling. "She told me that would probably be the first thing you said."_

_"Oh, god," Karish said, fighting the urge to bury his face in his lowhands. "I'm not just pathetic, I'm _predictably_ pathetic."_

_"I don't think you're pathetic," Parf said, stepping closer to him. He dropped the ball to his side. "Telra wouldn't like you so much if you were pathetic."_

Karish started. He'd fallen asleep in the soft seat of the ground vehicle. They'd gone underground, he noted, and the vehicle seemed to be slowing down.

/Karish?/ Jek called, from the front seat. /We here. Friend have translator, okay?/

/Okay,/ Karish said. He wrapped his lowarms around his body nervously. The door next to him opened, and Jek stood there with a much shorter, black-haired alien next to him.

/This Tosh,/ Jek said, slowly, quietly. /She put in translator, okay?/

Karish tensed, trying not to shake. He didn't know what they meant by "put in", but he was at their mercy here. /Okay,/ he said, finally. Tosh leaned forward and pressed a small machine up to his neck. There was a pinch, and Karish felt suddenly dizzy.

"Can you understand me?" Tosh asked, politely. It was as though she were speaking Tellursilan, but not- the whole experience made Karish's head hurt.

"Yes," he said finally, when he saw her look of concern. "The translator is just... confusing. But I understand."

"Good," Jek said. "That'll make things easier."

Karish looked up at him, rubbing his neck. "Can I see them now, please?" he asked, his voice small.

They led him down a set of curving steps into a medical bay. There were two forms lying side by side on tables, covered with cloth. Karish clenched his lowhands; his tophands fidgeting uselessly behind his back. Jek came forward. Gently, he pulled back the cloth enough for Karish to see their faces.

* * *

The sound of pain was nearly universal. Certainly, it would have been impossible to mistake the tortured keening that was coming from Karish's mouth for anything else. The alien bent over the bodies, stroking their still faces with his many hands, screaming his grief.

The rest of the team had faded into the background, but Jack stayed. "I know," he said, with a sympathy born of terrible experience. "I know." After Karish had grown still, Jack stepped closer. "You're from the Caleron system?"

"Yes," Karish answered, not looking away from the bodies on the table. "Where am I? Am I out of system? Our ship wasn't rated for interstellar-"

"You're on Earth," Jack said. "Sol system. You're... a long way from home," he said, sounding sorry about it. "There's a rift in time and space running through this city," he said. "Sometimes, people fall through it. It must have swallowed your ship."

"This planet is a backwater," Karish said. "But you speak the trade language. You must have traveled?"

"I'm not from here," Jack confirmed. "But yeah, this planet is still pre-spaceflight. Pre-real-spaceflight, anyway." He paused, delicately. "I don't know what funerary customs there are on your home planet, but we can't leave their bodies intact. There would be people who would... it's not a good idea."

Karish clenched all four hands, closed his eyes. "We carry our dead to the high places," he said. "And let the wind and the rain consume them." He paused. "I never thought-" he said, and broke off, his body tense with grief.

"You never thought you'd have to be the one dealing with this," Jack finished. "You hoped that you'd grow old together and die peacefully, together." He knew how cruel it was to survive, sometimes. "I'm sorry," he added.

"What will you do with them?" Karish asked.

The answer should have been "keep them for study and dissection", but Karish's home system was so far away that it was unlikely that Torchwood would run into his species again. It seemed pointless do that to them. Jack had done terrible things in Torchwood's name, and he didn't feel like adding to the list today. "We burn them," he said. "I'm sorry, but the alternatives are worse."

Karish nodded, looking distant. "What will you do with me?" he asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Jack said. "I'll figure something out."

* * *

The burning was quick. Jek and his team stood by. The medic- Awen- fidgeted uncomfortably and looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else. Tosh and Genn stayed near Jek, and Yen-to hovered around the edges of the room as if waiting to be called upon.

"Their names were Parf and Telra," Karish said, because it seemed like someone should say something. "I loved them, and they loved me." That was as much as he could get out without collapsing into his grief again. He held himself still and silent. Jek and Awen pushed their bodies into the incinerator.

After it was over, they traveled back to Jek's base. Karish stared out the window of the ground vehicle, feeling blank.

_"Goodbye," Parf said, his toparms wrapped around Telra._

_"I'm sorry we're not coming with you," she said, looking concerned._

_"I'll miss you," Karish said. "The entire time we're apart."_

_"I know," Parf said, and he seemed sad. He reached for Karish with a lowhand, but stopped just short. "But we'll see you soon enough."_

_"Goodbye," Telra said._

_Karish turned away. "Goodbye," he said, his voice breaking._

They arrived at the base, and Jek escorted Karish inside. "Let's see what we can do for you," he said.

* * *

Epilogue:

"I'm sending you to a friend of mine," Jack told him, handing off a letter to Ianto. "Ianto will take you there." Karish looked over at him, touching the spot where Owen had bandaged his head. Jack had gotten him food and medical attention- it wasn't much, but it was what he could do.

Ianto nodded, adjusting his suit. "13 Bannerman Road, sir?" he said, glancing at the paper.

"Right," Jack confirmed. "Send my regards." He turned to Karish. "Good luck," he said.

Karish nodded, hesitantly. "Good luck," he repeated, and got into the SUV beside Ianto.

"Well," Owen said as they drove away, "Good thing that's over with. Who's on for a drink?"

"You should be resting," Tosh said, disapprovingly.

"Should be, maybe," he said. "But I'd rather get drinks. You in or not?"

Tosh looked dubious. "I suppose so," she said.

"I'd best get home to Rhys," Gwen said. "I'm late enough as it is."

"Go on without me," Jack said. "Paperwork," he offered, as an excuse. The others left, and he went back to his empty office. _Three people in a clapped out spaceship_, he thought, to himself. _Off to see the universe._

_fin_


End file.
